My whole life has been a lie.
I was stunned to read last week that I was not, in fact, a Libra, as I had been led to believe for all 44 years I’ve been alive.
An instructor with the Minnesota Planetarium Society told the Minneapolis Star Tribune last week that the Moon’s gravitational pull had changed the Earth’s orbit over the centuries; that change means that the timing of the alignment with the constellations that make up the signs of the Zodiac isn’t the same as it was when astrology began.
So the time periods covered by each sign are now different; the “new” Zodiacial calendar also includes a 13th sign — Ophiuchus, the serpent bearer — covering Nov. 30 through Dec. 30.
(Interestingly, that’s Mrs. Crappy’s new sign. When I told her over the weekend that she was no longer a Sagittarius, she said, “That’s bullshit.” I’m waiting to see if she starts carrying snakes around.)
The upshot? Parke Kunkle says I’m not a Libra. Instead, I’m a Virgo.
Here are a few commonly accepted traits of Libras, both positive and negative:
The good: Diplomatic and urbane. Romantic and charming. Easygoing and sociable. Idealistic and peaceable.
The bad: Indecisive and changeable. Gullible and easily influenced. Flirtatious and self-indulgent.
The same site, on Virgos:
The good: Modest and shy. Meticulous and reliable. Practical and diligent. Intelligent and analytical.
The bad: Fussy and a worrier. Overcritical and harsh. Perfectionist and conservative.
I’ll let you draw your own conclusions — feel free to leave them in the comments — and in the meantime, I’m going to start working on becoming meticulous, fussy and diligent. Heh.